


Moving

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: A Short Policeman AU [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Police, Close call, Happy Ending, I promise, I ran out of Tags, I'll add more as I think of them, Lieutenant Dad, M/M, RK900 is a good brother, Romance, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Connor wants to take the next steps in his relationship, but has also has enjoyed the way they've taken their time. A too-close close call makes them reexamine how things are going.T for language and violence and maybe a tissue warning, who knows





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> GavCon is a drug. I can't quit send help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow a normal day goes to hell in a hand basket.

When Gavin walks into the precinct at exactly 5:32am to get ready for roll call, his colleagues are already in the locker room. He has to struggle to make it into his locker to put his bag away, and he grumbles and curses as people ignore him. Honestly, even though he knows most of these people think he’s a jerk, he doesn’t think that they deserve to see more than that, and so he’s never bothered to correct them.

Finally, he says, “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Fuck you, Reed,” someone, probably Ben, says. Honestly fuck Ben. He’s the worst out of all of them. He has been nice to everyone except for Gavin since day zero, somehow feeling like Gavin will feel excluded or some other type of way. Gavin only concluded that he was a dick, and his lack of emotion or intimidation rubs Ben the wrong way, which just makes their whole dynamic worse.

“Fuck you too,” Gavin snaps. “Get the fuck out of my way before I make you!”

“Oh fuck off. We all have to be in here, asshole. It’s not fair for you to walk in here thinking you own this shit. I have news for you.”

“Yeah fuck you, thinking _you_ own this shit, asshole! _Your_ locker is over there. Fuck off to your spot so I can fuck off to mine. What'd you miss that day in kindergarten or something?”

“Honestly you are the biggest fucking—”

Thankfully, Connor walks in then, and his locker is next to Gav's. When he mutters an “excuse me,” and then muscles his way in between them, he diffuses the argument, although both men are still glaring at each other, fists clenching.

Ben huffs and turns back to where he was talking to someone. He does shift over so that Connor and Gavin have their space.Gavin can't help placing his hand on Connor's back as he leans down to put his stuff away.

Connor turns to Gavin with a smile. “Would ‘excuse me’ have been so hard?”

“Hey, fuck you.”

Connor shrugs, and his cheeks turn pink. “Would be nice,” he says under his breath.

Gavin cackles. His day is already a million times better. He doesn't even need to smoke anymore. He goes back in his locker and grabs the box of patches, sticking one on the back of his arm.

* * *

They don't make out in the car anymore, only because Detroit PD finally provided them with bodycams, and they aren't allowed to turn them off except for on personals. Actually, it is incredibly difficult to stay firmly on this side of the friendly and professional line.

They make it a game, calling each other names becoming something that is flirty only to them. They make a strict no-touching-while-on-shift rule which Gavin always finds subtle ways to break. Connor always gives him a sharp look.

Today they've packed a lunch together in a cooler, and they take their personal in the parking lot of a strip mall, digging their cooler out and enjoying egg salad sandwiches, chips, a salad, brownies, and coffee from Gavin's complicated, fancy coffee machine.

“Hey Gav?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think about me taking the detective's exam?”

Gavin turns to him with an arched eyebrow. “What do _I_ think? Are you kidding?”

“I mean... look, you're my partner and—”

“Whoa whoa, stop right there. We can talk more about this later, but right now all I can say is that if going for detective is what will make you happy, I want you to do that. Absolutely.”

“What about you?” Connor asks forlornly.

“What about me?” Gavin snorts. “Do you. You know I'll be fine.”

“Who's going to keep you from knocking Ben's head off?”

“Nobody, but that wouldn't be a bad thing.”

“It would be a terrible thing.”

“Hey look, to be honest, I've been sticking my nose in some narcotics and vice departments. They need people, and I've been considering transferring for a while. I just... you haven't wanted to transfer partners, and I would never do it behind your back. If you want to go detective, trust me, I'm with you. And I'll be okay, I'm making my own plans. Alright?”

Connor nods. “Okay. Thank you, Gav.”

“You know I love you don't you?”

“I know,” Connor whispers.

They finish their meal in comfortable silence before turning on their cameras again and radioing themselves back into service.

They drive around their patrol area calmly, busting each other's balls while Connor checks the computer between them for flags that come up in the system as their system reads drivers' license plates.

There's a flag for overdue registration on one, and Gavin flicks the lights on, intending to pull them over and give them a ticket. It's only a week and a half overdue, and Connor, softie that he is, wants to go and give them a warning.

When the car pulls over, Gavin pulls up behind them. Connor gets out of the patrol car soon enough, and ambles over to the red SUV, noting the passengers in the car. There are four: a woman in the front passenger's seat, a tall, thin man driving, a well dressed man in the rear, and another man in the rear driver's seat.

The window comes down, and Connor gets a good look at the man. As far as he can tell, the person in the back seat is the owner of the vehicle. Who these other are is questionable at best.

Especially when he realizes that the driver looks _haggard._ He wonders if the man is on something, or in withdrawal from something. “License, insurance and registration?” he asks politely. The woman reaches into the glove compartment as the man pulls out his license. He sees her fingers tremble as she hands over the registration.

He goes back to the car with the documents, and the second he slips in, Gavin frowns. “What?”

“I don't... I have a bad vibe. This registration says that the vehicle belongs to joint owners, Chloe and Elijah Kamski. I saw the two in the car, but they are not driving.”

Gavin frowns. “Why don't we run the driver's ID?” He takes the license from his partner as Connor advises dispatch of the situation. Dispatch also comes up with other information, including that the driver has a bench warrant.

Gavin sighs. “How do you want to work this?”

“We should try to keep this as calm as possible. I'll issue the warning for the registration, and maybe ask some questions.”

“We should wait for backup.”

“If this is really a carjacking, anything that spooks them could make them harm the... the _hostages.”_

Gavin sighs. “Dispatch, be advised that we'll proceed with the traffic violation warning on the possible 1212 We need back up, but no light show.”

“Copy that, squad 921.”

Connor goes out again, returning the documents to the driver. “Who's the owner here?”

The well dressed guy immediately points to the woman in the passenger's seat. Connor gives his most charming smile “What's your name, honey?”

“I-I'm Chloe,” she says.

“Miss Chloe, the reason why I pulled you guys over today is because your registration is just over a week over due.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” says the rear passenger. Next to him, well dressed guy shakes.

Connor frowns. “Sir, don't—”

“I-I honestly forgot,” Chloe practically yelps, drawing Connor's attention. “I knew it was coming up, but I just didn't have time between work and the doctor...” her lip wobbles. “I apologize, officer. Please, let us go, and I promise I'll get it straightened out right away.”

Connor offers another charming smile, but he can feel his insides shake. Whoever these men are, they are _dangerous_. “I'll see what I can do for you, okay? Sit tight for me.” Connor taps the door twice before he steps back, turning to walk back to the patrol car. He sees the second patrol car turn onto their street without lights and sirens. Gavin gets out as the car pulls around and turns its lights on too, pulling up behind their own squad car.

Connor watches him go, his hand on his holster. It makes his stomach tight and hot, and in that second, he loves the man all the way down to his toes. Gavin confers with them for a moment while Connor pretends to be preoccupied with something inside the squad car. In reality, he's watching the interactions inside the car. Everyone seems tense, and he oddly understands them. Not knowing what will happen next gives him chills.

Now that the backup is here, and he can see Gav approaching the car with him on the passenger's side, he can break the bad news. He approaches the car with his hand on his holster, too.

He barely reaches the window when all hell breaks loose. The person in the back seat shifts. Connor barely has time to yell, “GUN!” before the back window explodes. He fires into the car, but it takes off, tires screeching and smoke rising from the tires as it peels into traffic. There’s an awful _thump_ as the suspect drives away.

He has to dive out of the way of the car and the gunfire, throwing himself sideways instead of into traffic. His ears ring so hard, he’s pretty sure he can’t see.

Connor’s breath is punched out of his lungs as he hits the ground. _Pain_ slams into him like a speeding bus, and he realizes numbly that he’s bleeding. “I'm hit,” he wheezes. “Gav, I'm hit.”

Thankfully, the second squad car didn’t hesitate to race after the car, the sirens shrieking in his already painful ears. When both are gone is when he sees Gavin lying on the ground. “Gav?” he tries again. “Gavin?!”

He pulls himself onto his knees, his chest thundering painfully and his blood roaring in his ears. “Gavin! Gav, please...”

Gavin doesn’t move or respond, and panic floods Connor’s system. He crawls faster. Blood pours down his sleeve and pools between his fingers each time he sets his hand down. That searing, brutal pain rips through his shoulder and up, almost until it’s ripping into his brain. He pushes himself forward faster. _He has to save Gavin. Gavin can’t die, he can’t._

_Gavin is everything to him, he can’t die._

Those are the thoughts that keep Connor moving, the mantra helping him set his bleeding arm down again and again. But everything hurts, and his vision is starting to fade--he can’t tell if it’s darkness or tears that are fading it, but once he realizes there are tears, he can’t help the defeated groan.  He wants to save Gavin, but now he knows he will die before he can. He fumbles with his radio as a last ditch effort as his arm finally gives out. He collapses onto his side before he can drag himself over to his partner, his best friend, his _love_.

“Sh-shots fired—officer down, p-please... I’m hit and my partner is… is down… please send help...”

He doesn't know when or if Dispatch acknowledges. All he knows is that he’s sorry he couldn’t… couldn’t save…

_Gavin…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *has tissues and a riot shield*  
> sosorrymoretomorrowlemmeknowwhatyouthinkbaiiiiiii


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're both recovering.  
> Connor lets his frustration out under the influence of 'that good shit'

“Hey, you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all I’m just glad you two turned out alright.” Kenny Anderson is the one in Gavin’s apartment, and having his boyfriend’s 2.0 in his house is just plain weird.

“Has anyone ever told you you could be Connor’s twin?”

Kenny laughs. “Almost daily since we were kids. it also doesn’t help that Con really always just looks…” he shrugs, then smirks. “Younger. Shorter. He’s more _my_ little brother than vise-versa.” Kenny has piercing blue-gray eyes and is built like a fucking machine, probably due in part to his time in the Navy. Connor is well-muscled but wiry, in the way that lanky people build muscle. Actually, seeing Connor partially undressed does things to him that make him think he’s addicted to jerking off.

Gavin honestly loves how his boyfriend looks. Which is why having his bigger little brother here is throwing him off. He’s not _attracted_ to him or anything. They just look like carbon copies and it’s just _awkward_ . Like, where Kenny is ready to sit down now, on that couch, he’s made out with Connor until they were both uncomfortable hard, their dicks rubbing against each other through thin shorts or pajama pants and dripping all over. Or, how about the fact that he had to get Kenny to was his sheets to make up the couch, all because he changed them too many times after fooling around with Connor in his bed like a teenager and never did laundry? _Eww._

He can’t tell if he wants to gag because his pain meds make him nauseous or if he’s just grossed himself out. _Probably both._

 _“Hey!_ Houston paging Reed, please copy. Hellooooo?!”

Gavin blinks.

“Wow, they must have given you good shit. Need a hand? Should I tuck wittle Gavy in and read him a nite nite stowy?”

Gavin gives a half-hearted “fuck you” but accepts the help anyway. His cracked ribs and fractured hip make it almost impossible to lay down. Once he is made somewhat comfortable with pillows and Kenny pulls the blanket up over him, Gavin is reeling all over again. His eyes water. “Holy fuck,” he chokes. _He made out with Connor right here last night, and now Connor is in the hospital because he got shot._ “Holy fuck, holy fuck,” he panics. “Holy fuck, _Connor…”_

“Hey, hey, don’t fucking cry, I…”

“Connor got _shot,”_ Gavin says, hiccoughing and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He has never felt more hopeless or pathetic in his life. “There was nothing I could do, I… I _let him get hurt.”_

“I’m gonna stop you right there brother. Man the fuck up okay? Look, you said it yourself, there was nothing you could do. You’re pretty fucked up too, man, you whole left side practically looks like it got put through one of those car crusher machines in the junkyard. You tried to stop a carjacker. Seems to me, you and Con did more than your part.”

“But...”

“Nah, shut up and listen. Jobs like yours and mine, we risk going out on some assignment some day and our number coming up early. You know this, Connor knows it too. So does Hank, whether he wants to admit it or not. Shit is just how it is. All we can do is go for the ride as best we can, and that means hanging on to the people we love with all we’ve got.” Kenny leans forward, meeting his eyes. “You watch my brother’s back and you guard his heart, and I honestly can’t thank you enough. You haven’t fucked up yet—if you did, you’d know, trust me.”

Gavin snorts. “Oh? Kind of like Markus knew?”

Kenny gets a strange look on his face, one that tells Gavin he’s better off not knowing details. “Don’t worry, Markus got his.”

* * *

 “Gav?” Connor rasps. It’s the first thing he says, before he can even open his eyes. “Where’s… where’s Gavin?”

“Connor?!”

He opens his eyes slowly. His whole body hurts. There’s a twinge from an IV in his arm, and bruises everywhere. His arm is bandaged, in a sling. He’s almost happy it’s the same arm as the last time he got shot.

 _He got shot, and Gavin… did they run him over? Is he alive?_ He remembers pulling himself desperately forward, towards Gavin’s still body and calm face, eyes gently closed, like he was dreaming.

“Dad,” he whispers when he can see. There’s panic flooding his body again. “Where’s Gavin? Tell me where he is, please...” He sucks in a shaking breath. “Is he… is he _dead_?”

“No, no, for fuck sakes. Fine, he’s fine,” Hank says, trying to calm him. “He’s home, Con. Don’t cry.”

Connor cries more, but in relief. “He’s home? How bad was he?”

“The car clipped him and broke his left ankle, bruised his knee, fucked his hip and cracked a couple ribs. He went down hard and got a concussion when his head hit the pavement. He’s sore and he’s grumpy, and he keeps asking about you.”

Connor sighs his relief. “He’s okay?”

“He’s giving everyone hell.”

“I want to see.”

“Calm down, kid. You’ll get to see him soon enough.”

“Dad… _please._ ” Tears sting his eyes, and he tries hard not to cry because it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker. “You didn’t see him lying there,” he whispers.

“I know, son,” he soothes, running his fingers through his boy’s dark hair. “I know. It’s gonna be alright. He’s fine, he’s just at home resting, okay? I promise, as soon as we know he’s up, we’ll bring him over to visit you.”

“We?” he whispers.

“Sure. Kenny is staying with him now.”

“Kenny came? Why? How bad am I?”

“You caught a through and through. Thankfully it missed all the good stuff. You also caught a graze on your neck, and that’s more concerning.”

“Oh.. _oww._ ” Connor can’t help his whimper.

Hank winces. “Yeah. I’m sorry, kid.”

Connor groans. “What time is it?”

“You’ve been out over a day, Con,” Hank says softly.

Connor glances over at him. “Oh… Dad, are you okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be,” he answers tiredly.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

“Not your fault, son.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Did they catch them?”

Hank smiles. “Sure did. Blocked them off before they could reach the freeway. That couple is safe at home, only minor injuries on the woman, Chloe.”

Connor scowls. “Any idea how that happened?”

“Not sure. I’m sure Gavin will tell you more in the morning. Get some rest, kid.”

“Will you call Kenny for me?”

Hank pulls out his phone and dials without hesitation.

“Dad? Is Connor okay, should I come?”

“Hey shithead,” Connor whispers.

“Hey, asshole! Fuck you, bro!”

Connor huffs a laugh. “How’s Gav? Why did you come here?”

“Why did I come? Are you kidding? I saw the car chase on the news, and then I go looking on my phone and find thirty missed calls from dad… _I saw the car chase on the news! In Maryland!_ It was so fucked up. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over, which is ironic. Will you tell me about Gav?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stand this motherfucker. Grumpiest asshole I ever met.”

Connor laughs, and then grunts, folding in on himself as he winces. “Oww, shit, don’t make me laugh,” he whispers.

“Aww fuck, I’m sorry! Shit are you okay? Connor? Dad!” Kenny’s voice escalates with his panic.

“I’m fine,” he wheezes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, I’ll shut the fuck up and let you sleep, okay?”

“Wait, tell me about Gav… please.”

“He said to tell him when you were up, but he’s finally asleep after fucking _complaining_ for like seven hours straight so fuck me if I wanna sleep now. And God, if the motherfucker can’t get outside to smoke, he’s a nightmare.”

“He has patches, he’s supposed to be quitting. Give him his patch.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him _you_ said that, he’ll shit a brick and then complain that shitting bricks hurts.”

Connor huffs another laugh, partly because of his brother’s attitude, and partly because it’s probably true.

“Okay, my bad, my bad. I love you, fuckface. Feel better, okay? And stop getting yourself shot, that shit is scary as fuck.”

“I’ll get right to work on that,” Connor answers dryly. “I love you, Kenny.”

The use of his actual name crumbles their barely controlled emotions. “Aww--Connor, you can’t fucking die on us okay?” Kenny’s voice cracks. “I need you, big brother.”

“I’m here, baby brother. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Kenny sniffs.

“Crybaby.”

“Fuck you,” Kenny laughs.

“Wish someone would,” Connor says sourly.

Hank shakes his head, pretending to gag. “That’s enough of that,” he says quickly, hanging up to Kenny’s laughter.

* * *

 In the morning he pries his eyes open to find his father asleep in the only chair in the room and, mercifully, Gavin standing near his bed, a crutch tucked neatly under each arm. “Hey, Darlin',” Gav says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Gavin,” Connor cries, struggling to sit up. He fails miserably and falls back onto his pillow with a defeated “oww.”

Kenny breezes through the door with three coffees in a tray and a bag full of breakfast food which he sets down in favor if helping his brother get comfortable. He pushes the button to raise the top half of the bed into a sitting position, and then he bodily shifts his brother around until he is comfortable, adding pillows behind his neck and injured arm before taking off again. He comes back with a nurse helping haul a second fancy chair, which they put near the bed. Gavin sinks into it with a grunt.

He looks awful. His face is scraped up and bruised on one side, where he hit the pavement.

When he can sit comfortably, Gavin reaches over and picks up Connor’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you,” he says against Connor’s knuckles.

Connor lets himself breathe for the first time since he woke up, slow, deep, calming breaths. He relaxes into his pillows. “Dad said the car clipped you,” he whispers.

“Yep. Caught me right in the hip but thankfully, there’s only a hairline fracture. The worst is my ankle, that’s straight up broken. I’ll just have to do a bunch of physical therapy once I can walk again.”

“The old ‘how to torment injured people in a few easy steps’ class,” Connor says with a chuckle.

“We’ll be back at it in no time, you’ll see.”

Connor smirks. “I’ll be back at it in no time, I don’t know about you, you _old_ man.”

“Hey fuck you, I’m not old. I’m… experienced.”

Connor laughs, but it hurts his stitches and he groans. “Oww,” he whispers.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, don’t laugh.”

“I’m fine! Geez, every time I laugh you and Kenny both freak out, but it’s usually your fault in the first place.” Connor turns his head to glare. “Also, Kenny told me that you were driving him up the wall about a pack of cigs. You told me you were quitting!”

“I think your boyfriend getting shot merits a smoke, fuck you very much.”

Connor frowns. “You’re all talk.”

Gavin arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You keep saying you’re going to fuck me and you never do. You’re a _tease_.”

“And you’re on drugs,” Gavin laughs. “We said we would wait. Remember?”

“Well, I change my mind,” Connor says stubbornly. Then he pouts. “Gav?”

“Yeah, Darlin'.”

“I want you to stay with me even if we go to other jobs.”

“Aww—hey, of course, of course I will. I love you.”

“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence, and then he says, “but like, really stay, okay? In my house. All the time.”

“Uhm—Connor, I don’t think…”

“I want you to stay with me _please!_ I like it when we’re together, and once we’re detectives we’ll never see each other.”

Gavin kisses Connor’s palm, halting his rant. “We’re gonna talk about all of that when you’re sober,” he says, grinning. “For now, just remember I’m with you, okay? I’m not leaving you and I want it all with you.”

Connor looks giddy and dazed. “Mmkay. But Gav?”

“Yeah Darlin'?”

“I still want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ…”

* * *

“Hey you.”

“Gav…?” Connor blinks sleep away to find Gavin sitting by his bedside again. “How are you holding up?”

Gavin frowns. “Like hell. I’m sore _everywhere._ ”

Connor groans his commiseration. Then he says, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Gavin shrugs, lacing his fingers through Connor’s. “You’re just… cute.”

Connor groans. “Oh great, what’d I do?”

Gavin gives an evil little smirk. “Well you propositioned me.” Connor stares at him, and he nods. “Yep. More than once, too. In fact, you seem to be frustrated that we haven’t done more than fool around, grind on each other a little, and make out a bunch.”

Connor flushes deep red. “Not _frustrated,_ just…”

“Just sexually frustrated. It’s cool, we can talk more about that when we’re both, uh… in better shape.”

Connor unlaces their fingers to flip him off. “I’m in great shape.”

“For someone who took a bullet or two, sure. Perfect, even.”

Connor sighs. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was… I was trying to get to you, but…”

“I know, Con,” Gavin says, taking his hand again. “I’m glad we’re both here. I’m not going anywhere without you, baby. You’re gonna have to do more than hit me with a car to get rid of me.”

Connor huffs, controlling his laughter again so that it doesn’t hurt.

“While I’ve got you laughing, I have to say, that you horny and on drugs is pretty adorable.”

“Shut up,” Connor says, flinging his hand at Gavin, who dodges the half-hearted hit with a chuckle.

“You also told me you want me to live with you, I think.”

Connor doesn’t react, and Gavin’s eyebrow climbs. “What? You’ve been thinking about us moving in?”

Connor flushes pink again. “I just… don’t want to waste time anymore, I guess. We keep saying we have all the time in the world, but… I mean, look at us now, we got lucky, next time we might not. I don’t want to wait anymore, Gav, I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.”

Gavin pulls himself to his feet, grunting as he has to push up on his crutches. When he can stand, he leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Connor’s lips. “If nothing else, Connor, you should know by now that I _am_ yours, and I have been for a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we should get Connor high more often
> 
> one more chapter to go :)
> 
> if you see a typo pls tell me, i have no beta and my face is so stuffy from a cold that I literally can't see to fix them *sniff* pls help
> 
> y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to sort some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter thank you for putting up with this :')

_ Two months later… _

Physical therapy is going fine. Gavin still finds himself sore all the time, but he still pushes himself through all the torture movements that the therapist gives him to do. Eventually they do help, and he can ditch the crutches although his hip and knee hurt constantly.

Connor is also in physical therapy, but he’s ready to start practicing for his shooting test and getting ready for his physical. He still wears the sling when he’s home, though.

Tonight finds Connor and Gavin curled together in bed, Connor’s legs supporting Gavin’s injured one while he curls himself against Gavin’s chest, Gavin cradling Connor’s painful shoulder with his body.

Both are scrolling through  _ Zillow _ on Connor’s phone, looking at photos of an apartment. Gavin is impressed, but confused. “Why this, Darlin’?”

“What? What do you mean why? Do you not… want…?”

“Oh, I mean-yeah, but, I thought you could just move into my place, since your contract is ending soon.”

Connor’s face falls. “Oh. well… I mean, I could. We could, I would love that.”

Gavin trails kisses over the side of his face. “But?”

“But, I… don’t want to.”

“Why?” Gavin asks curiously. He pulls his fingers through Connor’s hair, marveling at the silk-like quality of it.

“I just…” Connor’s face heats against his neck. “I want to start something new with you.”

“Something new, huh?”

Connor nods. “That place has seen all my worst times. I want new walls for all our best times together.”

“That’s… I always knew you were sentimental.”

“So are you,” Connor says, pouting. “Besides, this place would fit a joint budget of ours very easily. It has a great view of the river, and it’s close to work. There are good restaurants and bars nearby, we would have a good time.”

“Hmm.” Gavin studies the listing, considering.

Something that Gavin has never told anyone about is that moving is not just tedious for him, it’s downright traumatic. His dad was a meth head, and often went through fits of anger and paranoia as he went through his highs. More than once, his father took those fits out on him and his mother. He doesn’t know, still, whether to feel angry or bad for her, but his mother bailed the fucker out more than once when he went after Gavin, at which point the state decided that the little boy would be better off in foster care.

That was the beginning of moving  _ hell  _ for Gavin. He lived in two homes the year he turned 7. There was another home he got to stay in for a year and a half, but after that, he got bounced through more homes than he was years old. By the time he was ten, he didn’t know what it was like to have something to call his. There was always a nice lady, a social worker, named Lucy. he didn’t hate her, but he hated seeing her, because whenever she started coming around all the time, the words, “Time to move again, Gavin” inevitably followed. 

Finally, there was a foster family that took him in when he was twelve, and they were the ones that bought him things: his first bike, his own school supplies, his own sheets for his own bed. They gave him a spot at their table, they gave him things to play sports--they were  _ his.  _ They showed him how to take care of them, how to manage his belongings. By then, he was so proud of just having something that was his own that he did everything they said, just so he could keep them.

When he turned eighteen, he knew what he wanted to do. He joined the force right out of high school and went to night school for an associates in criminology after he finished Police Academy. It was grueling, and he was always tired. But he pushed himself as hard as he could. Finally, when he was twenty two, he rented his very first apartment.

It was the first time moving somewhere ever felt  _ good.  _ He got his own furniture and got himself trinkets and frames for his degree and his photos with his foster family. He still calls them from time to time. They are the closest thing to parents he ever had, and they were the ones that taught him to have his own things,  _ be  _ his own person.

_ They were the only ones that never made him move. _

He tells Connor this. He doesn’t even realize that he’s started to cry until Connor reaches up with his good hand to continuously wipe at his cheeks. “G-Gav,” he whispers, “You… you told me you didn’t grow up at home before, but you’ve never told me all this. Why now?”

“I just… starting somewhere new is hard. I did it too much, and I never knew what was going to happen next.”

Connor nods in understanding, plastering himself all over his boyfriend. “I’m scared too,” he offers. “It’s not for the same reason, but… I know what it’s like to not know what will happen, or if… what you thought was supposed to be forever could just crumble.” Connor sniffs. “If you’re not ready to move into a new place, I’ll move in here, with you.”

“W-what? Why?!”

“Because more than anything else, I just want you to feel safe with me. I don’t—I  _ never  _ want to hurt you.” Connor looks up and meets his eyes, wiping at his cheeks again. “I love you. Once I have you with me, we’re  _ not  _ moving.”

Gavin kisses him hard. Their mouths meld together in a hot, desperate kiss, cut short only by mutual groans of pain. Gavin presses his forehead against Connor’s, watching his eyes for a long time. They meet his steadily, warm brown and guileless. Gavin knows that Connor would never hurt him, but to really  _ see  _ it in his eyes is beautiful, and he can’t help himself. He kisses Connor again, presses against his body and  _ shows _ him how special their relationship has become. When they pull apart, Connor doesn’t want to let go of him and instead pulls himself back into their previous embrace, resting his leg under Gavin’s bad one and burying his face in Gavin’s neck.

He taps Connor’s hip once. “Lemme up, Darlin’. I want to give you something.”

“W-what? You don’t have to give me anything.”

“I want you to see it. If you keep it is up to you.”

“Why wouldn’t I keep it? I love everything you give me,” Connor says shyly. Gavin loves how his cheeks light up. He lands a peck on Connor’s nose, and he flushes even more. They both chuckle.

Gavin pulls himself to his feet and over to the closet. He roots around for a moment, and then Connor thinks he hears the tinkle of a key, and more grunting, cursing, mumbling and searching.

He grins when Gavin emerges with a victorious expression. “Got it!” He sits on the edge of the bed and presents Connor with a silver chain—but it isn’t the chain that makes Connor’s eyes widen.

The ring is solid white gold, but right in the middle there’s a design in yellow gold. He takes it in his palm to look at it better. it looks like a heart, two hands, and a…  _ something... _ on top.

“My mom gave it to me, my bio-mom I mean. I never knew what it meant until I asked someone. My mother only told me it was her father’s when he was married.”

“What does it... mean?”

“It’s called a Claddagh ring. It’s Irish. The top is a crown. It symbolizes loyalty and trust. The two hands symbolize friendship. They’s holding a heart which means true love, obviously. I… figure it suits us.”

Connor smiles brighter than Gavin has ever seen before. “It does. It  _ is _ us.”

Gavin leans over and kisses Connor’s cheek. “It’s yours. But I have to ask you something first.” 

“Oh?”

“Well, you see, you can wear it on your right hand, so that when you look at it, it’s right side up. That would be, like a promise ring. But if… if you wear it upside down on your left, it means you’re engaged.” 

Connor swallows. “Oh,” he whispers lamely. 

“So I have to ask you how you want to wear it.”

Connor’s eyes sparkle. “You should ask me then.”

Gavin takes both of his hands, the ring still between them. “Connor… you’ve been my best friend, my partner, for almost as long as I’ve loved you. Making you happy is what made me fall so hard for you, and I swear that I want to spend the rest of my life  _ giving you everything. _ Will you please, please marry me?”

Connor is beet red but he’s smiling wide. He doesn’t really answer, he just launches himself into Gavin’s lap and kisses him. The kiss is ecstatic and wanton, and they both gasp and groan. Connor grinds himself into his lap, eliciting a moan and a “fuck” that he almost doesn’t hear, because Gavin speaks almost right into his mouth.

Eventually they break apart, and Connor wraps his arms around him and squeezes. “I love you,” he whispers, “I love you, I love you,  _ I love you-- _ ”

“I love you too, Darlin’. I’m… looking forward to the start of all our best times.”

Connor takes the chain out of the ring and puts it on, upside down on his left hand, returning the silver chain to Gavin’s neck. “There,” he whispers. “What do you think?”

Gavin gives a little smirk, patting Connor’s ass cheek and giving it a squeeze. “I think you’d better email that leasing office, Darlin’. If the magic is still there when you see it in person, we can move in ASAP.”

Connor hops excitedly off of Gavin’s lap and scrambles for his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for sticking around. if you like, drop kudos and whatever else. let me know what you think, or if you see typos or errors, as this is completely un-beta'd. 
> 
> more stuff coming soon, my SuperBat chapter is about half done, and a new chapter of A&F is also about two-thirds done, so... progress is happening.
> 
> y'all are beautiful never forget it  
> <3Daisy


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